wisdom dwindled in her eyes, and she saw him smaller than he had
been before, smaller and shrinking in value, a pale shadow com-
pared to the living stalwart presence of Harold and Willie.
Already she herself was older, superior to him.

He was a tombstone in a churchyard now, and the churchyard
itself a far, forgotten place.

Jennifer pushed the photograph carelessly behind the orna-
ment on the mantelpiece, and ran down the stairs, her satchel on
her shoulder, humming " Tipperary," a song he had never sung.

Harold was killed in March.

She returned home from school in time for tea, and directly the
front door was opened she knew what had happened. The
servant's expression was scared, and she fumbled with the handle
of the door, avoiding Jennifer's eyes. There was a man's hat
lying in the hall. She looked into the dining-room and saw that
tea had not been laid. One of the boarders came out of the
drawing-room, and as soon as she saw Jennifer, her mouth
worked queerly, and she stepped back again, closing the door
softly. The rims of her eyes had been red.

A pain came into Jennifer's heart. She must not let the ser-
vant know that she had guessed.

" Where's Mother ? " she asked.

" Upstairs with your Granny—she's—she's not very well, I
think," said the woman, and sKpped away silently to the base-
ment. For a moment Jennifer hesitated, wondering whether she
could creep from the house and run somewhere far, run so that she
would never have to find out whether this thing was true. Terri-
fied lest she should meet someone who would tell her she went
along to the downstairs lavatory, and locked the door. No one
would find her here. She knelt on the floor and prayed.
" Please, God, don't let it be Harold or Willie, please God, let it
be just my imagination/' Then she rose and waited, her ear to
the door, listening for footsteps.

In about twenty minutes she heard a slow, heavy footfall
descending the stairs. It moved across the hall and went into the
drawing-room. Then the door closed. All was silent. Jennifer
knew that it was gra.-nflTnfl.-mma.. Stealthily she opened the lava-
tory door and stepped into the hall. It was no use, she could not
wait any longer. She must know the truth. She stole up the
staircase to her mother's bedroom, and with her heart thumping
and her hands clammy with sweat, she crept inside.

The room was quite dark, and the curtains were drawn.

Faintly Jennifer could make out the figure of her mother on the
bed. She stood by the door, holding her breath, terrified that she

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